From Rust to Ruin
by Johnswelsh
Summary: Sebastian gets more than he bargained for when another deranged killer takes interest in him. Post Game. This is a co written work. - Warnings for Violence, sexual assault, and general torture. Blame Seb-Castellanos, she's the one who wanted me to do this to Seb.
1. Chapter 1

"Ya talk too much." John shrugs off his coat and loosens his tie before kneeling down to unlace his boots and slip them off. They're a pain to get off in a hurry, and there has been more than one occasion his partner has just given up and dealt with it. Somehow, that probably isn't surprising. He strides towards Mick, voice dropping to that low and sultry purr it tends to when such things are afoot.

"Y'know, havin' an incubus in yer bed ain't somethin' most people get to experience. I wouldn't choose jus' anybody." He reaches for Mick's shirt, deftly working at buttons. "Do what's natural, although I basically always sub." That fits him, somehow. He's thin and just seems like the type.

"Now, we gonna chat, 'r fuck?"

Mick blinks, a little bit thrown off. He's just not used to this, different partners usually try to fight him at first, except Jaime, and he and Ethan have been together so long they just do what they want to. Having someone outright agree to sub is...weird. He doesn't expect it.

"Then it better be good enough for me to care," that's reasonable enough. He doesn't care about sex, he's apathetic about it completely. Except for with Ethan, but then it's more about love than anything else.

He lets John start, watching with narrowed brown eyes. And then a hands slips, wondering if demon feels different. His mind wanders to Grendel, actually. He's been possessed for the entity to use him but he's never quite felt Grendel's touch.

Shoes are slipped off, and once his jacket's off he's mostly finishing up himself. "To the bed, then. Make me want to follow you."

So demanding.

John just grins. He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, then gets the tie off from about his neck. Tattoos and some scars make it obvious he's lived quite the life this far, but he's doing very well. He doesn't look a day over 38, or maybe 40. There's something alluring about him. His movements, his mannerisms, that little grin. A hand drops to his belt, and before long he has that undone as well.

"Ya really do talk too much." He steps right up to Mick, hardly shy at all. his hands wrap around the other man's waist and his little grin only widens as he leans in to plant a kiss on the Welshman's lips.

It's like fireworks going off in his mind. It's like an orgasm before even having sex. It's a flood of passion and sensation Mick has likely not felt for quite some time.

"I good enough fer ya?" He draws back, waiting for his answer.

Ashamed as he would be to admit it, even with Ethan he doesn't feel like this. This is...something he's never really felt, or at least, hasn't in a very long time. His injuries are what kept him from really experiencing anything, and even after he healed it was never the same. Now?

Now he's hungry for it.

John doesn't get an answer, not a verbal one. No, he's far too focused on seeing if his mouth can eat John's, completely unsatisfied with the parting. Now he's starting to get addicted to that feeling he hasn't felt in years. The craving comes and passes, and for a minute he's dazed.

"Yes," answer enough.

There's a low growl from Mick as he nearly pushes John towards the bed, almost like he's not happy he has to stop to move. Which is funny, but he's not all right in the head when he's too busy trying to get addicted to that feeling again. Mick's torso is...well, it's obvious a year and a half has been good to him. Not overweight, not at all, but he's not in shape in the slightest, and he's a bit hairy, but beyond that, he's not too bad to look at.

He's not going slow with John, he's craving something and he's damn when going to get it. Once they arrive against the bed he's already pushing John down, showing just a bit of strength there that isn't very obvious by his build.

Next is his own exploration, and of course, figuring out where to mark. it's his signature, he does it to everyone. Ah, the neck is a good place to start. He's starting to obsess over the taste of skin.

It's a noted fact John loves to be held down like that, and to be pushed around. His whole life, he's never had any real control. Those rare moments he fights back, he knows the same enemies will return sooner rather than later. He knows his place in the grand scheme of things, and so it is gladly he's come to terms with just how much he enjoys this.

At one point, it scratched the itch of confirming his feelings that he was worthless. Now, it just makes him more positive that he's in control. Funny, how those things go.

John is response, but not very loud. He does it in the physical way, encouraging the kisses and welcoming what bruises they might leave. He's got a few bite scars on his neck. Seems he's been attached to more than one vampire in the past.

Vampires just make Mick pissed. He was protective of Ethan even back when they weren't dating, and finding out what that fucking prick did to him only serves to make his hate of the species more cemented. Another low growl once the mark is made, and Mick sits back, eyeing his new partner up and down for a moment before gently caressing a hand around the other's neck. Slow, but it's only to prepare him. The other hand is there to prep, seems like he's getting more enjoyment out of this than he thought.

"Yes?" His head dips towards the hand almost clasped around John's throat. Permission is usually a good thing.

Ah. Mick likes that. Seems he wasn't entirely truthful saying he didn't have many kinks. His lips twitch into that same grin- that same, infuriating grin- and he consents.

"Yes." God, he's addicting. The look of him, the smell of him, that wonderful feeling when he touches his partner. God, that kiss...that kiss is to die for.

His left nudges John's legs, working on prep, while the right clasps slowly, then tighter, and tighter, until he has what he desires. Choking noises are usually what's wanted, he would never do this to Ethan unless he asked, but it's a good way to relieve stress. And it shows trust, which is something Mick deeply values.

He's not too tight, but he goes ahead and speaks. "Tap once to release, twice to stop," the same system with Sebastian.

"This is..." He's mumbling now. His eyes are scanning over John, landing on a patch of scars on the other man's wrist. He's curious, but he wont say anything. Another finger is sliding in. Mick's in for a ride.

John doesn't hide his scars- any of them. Self-harm and suicide, the remnants of an angry lover, a bullet, a stabbing...his skin bears it all like a map, and it suits him well.

The pressure halts his breathing, slowing his oxygen flow and making his pulse rise in an attempt to get it to his body and to his brain. The pleasant, warm buzz this causes is dizzying and addicting. He loves it. He knows how to ride it, too, without pushing to the point he will pass out. The preparation is welcome, and he would have moaned if he were able.

Mick gets what he's after, and when John knows he needs a break, he taps once. He has to breathe. When allowed, there are deep gasps, which only serve to further distort his vision and fill him with that same, pleasant feeling of lightness. He knows how to play this game. He wasn't kidding. He welcomes it again, whenever Mick is ready.

He's obviously experienced, which only helps.

The tightness is kept until prep is done, and Mick moves to get himself inside John. It's what he likes, usually he finishes choking before he moves, but he has a feeling he can do this safely with John.

The pressure is lightened, and Mick adjusts until he's finally deep and situated. He's not forcing it or being rough, not yet at least, but his presence is made and known.

With the first thrust comes a tighter hold on John's throat as one has becomes two, and his thumbs dig against his throat, one of them pressing into the little mark Mick made there. Again, again, now they're getting started.

The initial entry gets a low moan. He can't help it. It's a wonderful sensation, all at once taboo and something he could happily live his life centered around...which he kind of has, actually. For him, it's never about an emotional connection. He doesn't ever use it that way. Sex is recreational, for pleasure, for fun. He would never want to change that.

There- the first, actual thrust. His eyes close momentarily as the sensation rocks over him. Two. Thumbs dig into his throat, and fingers pick out an already sore spot. There. They have a rhythm. John falls into it naturally and moves with Mick like they've done this a dozen times before. He knows how to get people hooked, and how to get them to come back for more. He loves that.

John bites his lower lip, barely quieting a little purr of pleasure. The hand he's not using to signal a need for a stop moves to tousle through Mick's hair. His touch is like flecks of ice, melting quickly and being replaced by a shower of more. Those sensations Mick had been missing are all here, now. Every pleasure, every sensation, every bit of what it's like with no discomfort at all.

That's the sort of thing a man could get addicted to.

Mick knows what he's doing, which helps. He has a lot of experience as a dom, back when John first met him he was still a mess after Erik. Ethan's managed to get him to open up and start being himself, and kept him from getting too timid. Now he's comfortable, and how he feels like he can takeaway power from anyone he desires.

He hasn't felt anything like this in so long. It almost upsets him, he wont even feel like this with Ethan and that thought hurts him drastically.

The feeling is somewhat still confusing, and he really doesn't know how long he can hold off with it. When John touches, his hair, that seems even less likely that he'll be able to keep himself from going off the deep end. A few more thrusts and he's shaking, struggling to keep himself going just a bit more, he doesn't want to lose this just yet. It's been too long.

John can tell he has Mick intoxicated. The squeeze on his throat becomes a bit much, and he taps once again for a break to breathe. His hand moves away from Mick to stop that sensation and let him ride it out at his own pace. He understands. He didn't expect Mick to last long or get too rough. He is enjoying the carnality of it, for sure, and he happily grips the sheets instead. He bites down hard on his lower lip, a wave of pleasure rolling up his spine from the hard, repetitive thrusts. He's getting closer. An unfortunate side-effect of being what he is, however, is that it often takes more to get him off. This explains his affinity for BDSM and extremely...EXTREMELY...rough sex.

Both hands slip off- he needs time to breathe, time to focus. His thrusts are more jagged and he's having a hard time placing himself. Everything is moving at the speed of light and everything is making him spasm more and jerk as the feeling overwhelms him. It's been so long. So...so long...

A loud, angry curse is mutters out in Welsh, and Mick is focused on biting now, teeth grazing that spot under John's jaw and Mick's hands gripping tight around his arm. He has strong hands, and the tightness on skin might end up with more bruises than intended.

Finally, he lets go, body jerking him to the side as he comes, dipping his head against John's shoulder to ride it out. It's not much, not with those injuries of his, but it's something at least, and it's enough for him to release his hold, body jerking a bit as the aftershocks set in.

So. Fucking. Long.

The tight hold, the near-desperation of his partner, and the general atmosphere of this are enough. A few moment after Mick has finally started to slow, he reaches his climax as well. As he does so, Mick is rewarded with aftershocks of pleasure for several moments more. John breathes heavily, glad to be able to do so now.

As his body finally calms down, the craving for a cigarette kicks in. Tacky and cliché, but the only thing he truly wants. He has a feeling Mick is going to be coming back for more. He plants one of those electric kisses on Mick's cheek, in no rush to make the other move or get up.

Mick just stays there for a bit, utterly defeated and exhausted. Mostly from the overwhelming sensation, and he's like a rock on John's chest. But after a while he grunts, slowly lifting himself up to pull out. Usually by now he'd be hopping in the shower, but he's not in his bed with his partner, he's with John Constantine, and he's fucking exhausted.

"Thanks," his gratitude is in the form of a kiss to the forehead, and Mick nearly throws himself down opposite John, hand yanking a pillow out from under him to rest on. He wont move, and he wont care if John does, but he's perfectly content to just rest there for now. He feels too good to worry about it right now.

"Any time." He means that. He rolls over to sit up before slipping to the bathroom to clean up. He then gets dressed, heads to the kitchen, and steals some tea, cookies, and exactly five apples, two bananas, and one egg from the fridge.

With that, he's gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Inside the warehouse, Sebastian is settled on a chair with straps around his arms and legs to keep struggle a minimum. Erik hasn't decided yet what to do with him. Maybe inject him with drugs until he's addicted, maybe fuck him, maybe just keep the detective as a pet. Who knows? He has until Sebastian wakes up to decide.

The dose was heavy but hopefully that time will be soon. He switches back and forth between his prisoner and work, checking Sebastian's vitals and being sure the man is kept alive. The last thing he needs is for the bastard to die on him before he gets anything done.

Sebastian takes a while to come to. His body's dealt with heavy drugs before, but not heroin. He's not having any adverse reactions, but it takes him a long time to wake up. He doesn't know how long. He's groggy and red-eyed even then, but he shifts and finds himself restrained. There's a soft exhale and his eyes squeeze shut. His hands curl into fists and he tries once more to stand, finding it pointless. He has no idea what's happened, just that he feels strangely numb.

"mmf..."

"Hullo, Detective." Azarov's voice is a low hum, and somewhere music is playing. Is that..Claire de Lune? "I should have mentioned I'm not an easy catch. My men are strong negotiators, and I bring a lot of revenue to this city. I am a powerful man. I don't like it when people mettle in my business, you know how it is, yes?"

He doubts Sebastian's completely with him here, but he's in his grasp all the same. Really, it doesn't matter when he's done.

"Maybe I should do to you what I did to Meical? Though your organs might not be as...eh, healthy as his are. Maybe some domination will show you your place, hmm? You know, he became submissive because of me. Powerful war hero and regarded BSF sniper reduced to nothing because he double crossed me. Just like you did, Detective. I'm not fond of liars."

Oh...oh God.

Then again, what good does raping him do when he's so broken anyway? That kills his mood, and honestly as much as he'd like, with how pretty Sebastian is, he has other plans. But for now, he wants Sebastian to stew and suffer for a while. Torment him. This will be fun.

He's not focused, at all. He's trying to follow, but all he can truly make out is music and eventually words, but those it takes him a bit longer to associate meaning to. He shifts and winces. How long has he been out?  
The threat is there. And it sounds serious, too. Sebastian finally finds somewhat slurred words, and they're not happy.

"No. Don't you fucking dare." It's firm, although the idea clearly spooked him. "The flirting before was an act. I'm not interested. You do that and the list of reasons I'm going to make sure you never get out of a cell again go even higher." He's defiant, alright, and that won't change.

"No? I hate that word." He's getting uncomfortably close, a hand trailing over Sebastian's leg for a moment before he give him a paralyzing stare. "What are you going to do about it? I can do whatever I want to you."

There's a brief inhale of Sebastian's scent- nothing to be proud of, honestly-before he takes a step back, looking over his little set up until he comes across his instruments. The lights are bright in the warehouse, and any and all windows are blacked out to hide the outside. Someone with PTSD and a fear of imprisonment wouldn't last long here.

He paces for a moment before he reacts, finally, by shoving his foot against the side of Sebastian's chair, watching the thing topple over on its side. The floor is cold and hard, and Erik's next threat is accented by the push of his hand against Sebastian's face, shoving him against the floor.

"You will not reject me, Detective. I hold your life in my hands. You have no family, your partner doesn't know your gone, and Authority and all the other branches of whatever don't care about a washed up loner from Krimson City. Even your wife wouldn't stand to be around you. Yes, I know, your files aren't too hard to dig into, my friend. No one is looking for you, and I have a week until I move on. Now then, shall we start again? "

The pressure on his skull is gone and Erik pulls him back up, clearly not messing around.

Sebastian hits the ground with a gasp, the blow causing his already injured head to hurt even more. He lets out a whine of discomfort as his face is pressed into the floor, heart racing and body rigid with fear. This is straight out of his worst nightmares. And then comes the villainous but true statement- he has nobody. When he's finally released and yanked back up, the fear and apprehension on his face is clear. He isn't trying to hide it.

Erik knows about him. What has already happened. He's made it clear. He's silent and slouched now, scared. The point's been made. What's he supposed to say?

"That's a good boy." Erik lightly smacks his cheek, clearly pleased he's freaking him out. He's going to let him stew, of course. That being said, there's some rummaging around on his table. He debates on a sedative but decides it'll be much more fun to hear Sebastian whine. "So, you're used to being a prisoner, I assume you know the rules, yes? You obey me and no harm...mostly no harm comes to you. Disobey and I send a piece of you to your department. We understand, yes?"

He's going to break Sebastian first, and to start, he decides is a few broken ribs will keep Sebastian from struggling and possibly finding a way out. The hammer is adjusted a few times in his hand before as heavy blow is made, absolutely no change coming to Erik's stone face as another is thrown for good measure. One side is enough for now, and depending on Sebastian's reaction, he may decide he's done for the night.

The smack gets a grimace and a wince. That hurt his pride, but he wisely holds his tongue. It's the effort that counts, right? The questions are definitely rhetorical, at least to start with. There's a quiet affirmative response, one word, short and sharp. He adjusts in the chair, but motion stops as Erik comes around with a hammer. Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. His first thought is the man will go for his knees. That would permanently cripple him. He's sadly somewhat relieved it's the ribs instead. At least that means he won't be killed at the end of this for sure. He still could be, of course.

The first blow gets a choked gasp and a pained wheeze that turns into a whimper of pain. Oh, he's hurting now. Before any real time for the pain to set in is given, the second blow comes. He can't hold back the shout, but it breaks off raggedly as speaking makes it hurt worse. His hands grip the chair tightly, knuckles nearly white. He takes rapid, shallow breaths, eyes misty and lips barely parted in an attempt to get more air.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck fuck fuck **FUCK**

"Ah, nice. They don't scream like that anymore. Hopefully you see what happens when you reject me. Or bring snipers with you. Not exactly fond of either thing, you know."

Good. Sebastian isn't hiding it. That would have gotten him to do more. He's watching Sebastian recoil from the pain, finding amusement in just how easily he can break this man. It kind of takes the fun out of it, but whatever, doesn't interfere with Azarov's plan.

"There's an air mattress. Very comfortable." A hand runs through Sebastian's hair, curling around to cup his cheek before Erik pumps another heroin sedative into him. He will wait until Sebastian's all loosey-goosey again before he goes to loosen the binds. Sebastian can try and claw at him, but with his legs and arms restrained, he doesn't exactly have much he can do. "It might hurt a little, but I didn't bring anything for prep. But you'll manage, wont you?"

Oh no.

"You can help me or I'll drag you. Your choice. You'll be asleep soon anyway."

Sebastian has been through hell. He's easily broken, it would seem, but he doesn't stop fighting. That's his hallmark. He doesn't hide his pain, but he doesn't stop until his body literally cannot go another step. He's shaky and winded, but doing his best to hold on.

The hand in his hair isn't appreciated, but he bears it. The cup of his cheek feels too intimate. Then, more drugs. He exhales with a whine, clearly not appreciating more drugs. He doesn't try to fight them. It's pointless. When he's released and those words come, he suddenly understands he isn't being offered momentary rest. He figured he was going to be waterboarded or something. This is even worse. There's an exhausted and weak frown.

"I don't wanna...nngh..." His tongue feels huge in his mouth. He attempts to stand, but that doesn't work out well. A second try gets a similar result, but this time he ends up on one knee instead. That's...progress?

"Please."

He settles for dragging Sebastian, yanking him by the back of his shirt. This proves how strong Erik is and how easily he would be able to take Seb in a fight, especially now. Once he's got the poor man near the mattress he just dumps him there, letting Seb struggle for a bit before the drugs kick in.

This has to be frightening, especially when Erik goes for Sebastian's clothes, clearly meaning to undress him first. It's freezing in the warehouse, but there's a blanket waiting on the mattress. Clearly, he's been planning this for a while.

"Settle down. Just let it happen, you'll be asleep." His voice is disgustingly calm and it's enough to make anyone sick. once he manages to unbutton Sebastian's shirt, he goes for his pants, a bit disappointed that Sebastian doesn't quite have the body type he expected

Being dumped on his busted ribs isn't exactly going to keep him from whining in pain as he tries to get back to his hands and knees, at least. He's terrified. Erik's words aren't exactly calming him down at all. Then, hands are guiding his weak form to the mattress. There's a hiss of pain and a weak bat with his hands, but he can't do much.

Those words aren't exactly making him feel excited or proud to be in his position. He can't fight back, and his murmured rejection of what's happening is weak. By the time Erik gets his shirt off and pants are in the process, he's passed out.

Good, he's out.

He stops there, clearly no longer interested and leaving him behind. Making someone believe the act happened, making them panic and worry and obsess over the idea that they've been violated, seems to do more damage than anything. He was Sebastian to suffer, and he's going to get it.

While Sebastian sleeps, Erik is at work, packaging drugs, approving harvests, talking with his men, all out in the open. Sebastian's knocked out, not much he can do to stop him. There's an order put out on Mick, but the Welshman has gotten elusive since he started using those portals. Either way, Erik's won.

He eventually goes home, resting in a comfortable bed with guards outside his door. There's a new report that local detective Sebastian Castellanos is missing, a case headed by Detective Akiyama, and there's an interview with the young man and all there is is concern and fear in his face. Quit hilarious, actually.

When the morning comes, Azarov is back in his warehouse, crouching in front of Sebastian and waiting for him to stir. He'll be sore, and that'll add to the illusion of what happened the night before and scare him just a little more.

Sebastian wakes slowly, painfully. He shifts and grimaces, then slowly realizes...and remembers. And he hurts.

"N...no...no, you..." He exhales and tries to get up, panicked. He looks horrified and sad. "No...nonononono..." He tries to sit up, but gives up. It hurts too badly. "Oh my God, did you...oh god, no..." He looks like he's about to cry. This isn't good.

He looks to Erik in silent horror, praying for an answer he won't hate.

"Shhh, quiet." He's using that soft voice again. "Good news? After today I'll let you go."

After today? Oh, that means there's more. "Get up. I'll help you to your chair. You must be sore after last night, yes? After all, you weren't much for performance." There's a scoff before he gives a kick to Sebastian's side, obviously wanting him to stand on his own. "Big day, detective. Up up, yes? Get you something to eat, maybe. If you keep me happy enough."

He's going to stay true to his word. He has a plan for Sebastian, but no sense in giving all that away just yet. He still has a few things to break.

No **shit** he wouldn't be much for performance. He's asexual, not interested, would have been forced, and was drugged. Combine those, and you don't get a good reaction. He looks heartbroken. The kick gets a groan and he curls up on his uninjured side. This is horrible, and he wants to stay there and cry. Of course, he can't do that, though.

The idea of food just makes him more nauseous. But the idea of getting let go is a decent one. He isn't sure if he believes it. He forces himself to stand, a hand on his side and a look of horror on his face.

"That's a boy." His reward is a shove when Sebastian gets close, sitting him back in the old chair. Erik isn't bothering to restrain him, not when he's breaking more today. He was lying about food, all about motivation. Really, he's a shitty captor. Sebastian's lucky he's just got one more day. "Sit still. This will be a while."

Another injection, more to just make him feel ultimately helpless and weak. That gives Erik far more power than he needs, and the harsh yank of the needle just goes to show that he's not exactly over what Sebastian attempted to do to him. He lets Sebastian settle before he decides to get started, picking through an arrangement of tools and toys before he finds a tazer.

"I hope this shows you how dangerous I am, Detective, and how your friends can't be trusted. Or friend, who knows. Meical's missing anyway, and he blames all this on you, yes? No sense he'd want to come for you. Now, I'm just bloody curious and would like to know if you feel this under the influence."

The jab is right on the tender needle marks on the side of Sebastian's neck, digging it hard under Sebastian's skin.

He's beyond drugged now. He exhales softly and falls into a slump, far too weak, loopy, and busted up to go anywhere. Not only that, his pride is damaged permanently by the fact he thinks he was raped. How could it not be?

The sharp pull on the needle hurts like hell, but he's too out of it to properly react. That's what Erik gets for pumping him with all of this shit. The tazer hits, and the pain from the injection sites gets a gasp. He convulses, more than able to feel it, and the chair topples as he violently reacts, spilling to the floor.

Erik frowns, peering at the tip of the tazer and tapping Sebastian with the toe of his shoe.

"Okay. Makeshift electroshock, should tie victim up first and then do it. Good to know, I guess." Wow. There's a heave and he's forcing Sebastian back into his chair, setting him up and tying him back to keep the same thing from happening again. "Okay, one more. I don't get live subjects much, because most of them are dead by the time I get to them, so consider yourself my little guinea pig. One more, and I alert whoever bothers to care to your location. In about a week, maybe, depends on if I remember. You'll be nice and sleepy for most of it, and if your lucky you'll be asleep when your body finally crashes. Actually..."

He wasn't planning on this, but the needles he gathered from the body last night are still pumped full of heroin. The junkie died before he could even hit up. That'll come last, before he leaves. But for now?

"I'll give you a choice. If you can speak, that is. Or I'll chose for you. You can either let me skip playing with one of my toys on you and shoot you up instead, or you can let me experiment on you forever and I won't inject you with whatever inside the yellowing, decaying needle there. But you'll be my toy forever, and I'll do whatever I want to you. You'll need to speak up, Sebastian."

What kind of a choice is **THAT**? Sebastian's close to OD, but he's alive. He's resilient, when it comes to drugs. He groans and coughs, barely tugging against the restrains as he does so. He has a life to live, and it doesn't involve letting Erik toy with him until he does.  
But he knows what dirty needles do. Either is a death sentence. Sebastian mumbles, words slurred and body limp against the restraints holding him into place. He's given up. Erik broke him.

"S not fair..." Obviously. "S not fair at all. Fuck you."

Injection it is." The movement is swift, and the pain has to be horrid with how hard and deep he's pushing it in. There's not much in the needle, but he pumps what little is left inside of him.

He has no plans to sterilize and care for Sebastian after this. He wants to see what this will do to him, some random needle that he's injecting into Sebastian's neck, looking completely please in what he's done to him. He yanks the needle back out, throwing it to the floor and crushing it under his feet.

When he's done, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to Sebastian's forehead and turning to leave, not even bothering to cover his supplies. He'll find himself new toys, and really, he's in no system, no one can find him. Sebastian is probably going to overdose anyway. What's the point of waiting around?

"I'm done playing around. I will have someone look for you, maybe, see if your alive. With the drugs in your system, and whatever's on that needle, I doubt it. We're leaving now, I return to Moscow tomorrow and my friends are getting restless here, and I got what I wanted. There's nothing here for me. Goodbye, Sebastian. Rest easy, yes? Hope it's not AIDs."

What a fucking bastard.

Sebastian gasps and shifts uselessly. He's far too drugged to react now. The kiss is barely felt, and then...he's alone. He passes out not long after. He's not going to OD and die, but he's damn close, and he need serious medical help within the next two days, at the maximum, or he WILL die. He stays slumped in the chair, out of it, for the first.

When he finally has some shred of consciousness again, he weakly fights against his restraints and manages to topple himself over. He can't move to try and free himself. He stays where he is, and fades out once more.

His pulse is dropping, slowly.

He's too fucking late.

For three days Mick has searched, and the minute he finally has a lead, his door parts to an empty warehouse.

"Fuck," someone's not happy, and it's clear by the way the Welshman is scouring the area, searching high and low for any trace for anything. A journal left behind, talk about Moscow. Hopefully E is up for an international trip.

There's more searching, a few dead bodies are found, all experiments, but for good measure he checks the ones that aren't cut open. His last check is the body left in the chair, and at first he leaves thinking there's nothing there.

Until he notices a faint little pulse.

The restraints take time and once he's got the guy unhooked he can tell he's been tortured. The needle marks alone are enough to make him nervous. He could call an ambulance, but that would lose him any evidence here to the police. Once he has the man undone, Mick rolls him over and recognizes him instantly. Shit. Shit shit shit shit.

He needs a hospital. For once, this isn't a case of cyborg boyfriend or super soldier. He's not strong enough to carry Sebastian so he just lefts him the best he can, calling for a door and appearing somewhere outside the city where he won't be noticed. He's getting addicted to that form of transportation, but he's not risking losing this scene, not when he can just carry him to an emergency room.

Once he gets Sebastian inside the closest hospital he can think of, he's trying to keep his cool while being yelled at by a nurse and told he should have called an ambulance. But his method was faster.

Sebastian is in shit shape. He's honestly a new level beyond it. He's holding on by sheer willpower alone, and it's showing. He's weak and helpless, burning up with fever. He doesn't have a word to say. As he's carted off, the dull but terrified look on his face should say it all. He's been through something horrific, and now he's just fighting to stay alive.

But they can save him, because if Seb Castellanos is anything, it's a fighter.

It takes about ten hours to get him stable and resting. He's alone, the PD having him under guard for his own protection and keeping the media away. He's alone, and has suffered a lot. But there's worse to come. Nate will have to get his story, eventually. Mick will probably want to know, as well, for his hunt.

He waits a day before trying to get in visiting hours. He needs information, and unfortunately Sebastian is the only one who can give it. When he finished with the warehouse he left an anonymous tip, so that hopefully they can find something easier than he can on sight alone. Mick's told Nate to back off, to wait a few days. The kid's fucked up over this and feels guilty, which is really kind of adorable. But not when his kill his halfway across the world.

If he's let in, and if he manages to make it to Sebastian, he'll wait to see if he's awake before doing anything. he doesn't feel guilty about what happened, but seeing as how he blamed Sebastian before, however, he still owes the man an apology. Once he's faked himself in, he waits, making sure Sebastian is stable before he makes a decision on staying or going.

Sebastian is quiet, and has been since he got blood test results. His whole world has been destroyed, and there's nothing that can right it again. He looks to Mick when he arrives, expression cold and distant. He's tired, but he's alert.

He thinks for a long time before he speaks. When he does, he's quiet and accusatory.

"You brought this into my life." His tone is weak, quiet. It won't raise. "You brought me into this and you made me feel bad I couldn't break the law to give you what you wanted." He looks...like he's about to cry? "You ruined my life."

There's any number of arguments he could make. Lies he could throw out. Hell, even attack Sebastian back and tell him it's his fault instead.

'I know." Clearly, this hasn't been easy on him either. Nathan blames him and he won't dare ask Ethan his thoughts on it. He feels like shit enough. "S'wot 'appens when you break the rules, even a little bit. I should 'save never talked you into this, should 'ave risked it and done it myself. Nate's pissed at me, told him not to see you. If it makes you feel better, he gave me a shiner for you."

Of course it doesn't, but it's admirable that Nathan cares so much now. "I'll stay away from you. Jus'...you wont 'ear from me ever again. But just know what he did to you wont be ignored. He's going to die, Detective, but I need to know where he's going. Just a bit of information, and then you'll never see me again."

"Information?" Sebastian's voice is quiet, but now it's rising? "You want information, you bastard? He broke my ribs. He drugged me. He raped me. And you know what? Unlike you, that isn't where he fucking stopped with me." There are tears brimming in his eyes now, and his rage is mounting. He's getting louder, too, and his pulse is spiking.

"He gave me hepatitis, Mick. I have fucking hepatitis because of you. There's your fucking information." He points to the door, a few tears spilling from his eyes. "Get out. Get the **fuck** out. Now."

"Fine."

With that he's turning, clearly given up. Unless he's approached, there's a chance Sebastian won't even see him again.

"Oh. By the way, he couldn't 'ave fucked you unless he changed the MO. You'd be missing organs if he did. I would know. Every single case before you has been the same. He's a bastard manipulator, and Erik's too obsessed to change like that. If it helps you sleep at night. Torture tactic, seems to 'ave worked on you."

He sounds angry, but that's about all he has in him to deal with this. He's leaving, and unless called he'll keep going until he's in a sparse enough spot to vanish. From there, he has nothing to go on. Azarov is dust in the wind, again. Unless he makes big noise, Mick will probably never find him. That bothers him more than anything, honestly.

When he's alone again, the door closed and privacy regained, he's not going to try and stop the tears. He eventually ends up curled on one side until he's near sleep again, heaving for breath and fighting against a massive headache. He considers calling a nurse, but instead he ignores the call button and just waits to be bothered again. He knows it isn't going to be good news.

He's alive, but at what cost?

What's even left for him, at this point?

The press the story gets is incredible. The story rocks the news, and donations are even raised to help Sebastian pay medical expenses.

Police everywhere are ramping up their guard and their protection. If one of their own isn't safe just standing on the street, then who among them is?

Detective Castellanos won't return to duty for about two months.


End file.
